Kinship in hip-hop is not often literal. Jay-Z is not Kanye’s actual “Big Brother” (especially these days); Weezy lamenting the loss of his “brothers” B.G., Juve, and Turk on Tha Carter’s “I Miss My Dawgs” was figurative. And back in ’91, when an 18-year-old Del the Funky Homosapien dropped his debut, I Wish My Brother George Was Here, he was paying homage to one of his heroes in the funk, George Clinton, not his kin (unlike the bombastic pianist from whom the saying came).

But though there haven’t been many notable ones, sibling combos do exist in the game, and together they’ve produced some profound music. From West Coast G-funk pioneers to coke rap aficionados, here are some of our favorites.

10. MadeInTyo and 24hrs

As solo artists, Malcolm “MadeinTyo” and Robert “24hrs” Davis craft the same sort of bright, melodic trap music, constructed on airy synth chords and thudding kick drums. They’ve each had individual success: 24hrs, once a straightforward rapper under the alias Royce Rizzy, has seen his career blossom since devoting himself entirely to singing, while his little brother MadeinTyo earned a platinum plaque for his infectious 2016 single, “Uber Everywhere.” Their pairing on last year’s 24hrs in Tokyo was a seamless merger of their talents, with MadeinTyo’s Auto-Tuned yelp manning the verses and 24hrs’ honey-toned voice—a more polished version of Lil Uzi Vert’s ethereal croon—supplying the hooks. The result was breezy and refined, a small collection of jams that evoked sunsets in both Los Angeles, where the brothers live now, and in Japan, where they spent a number of their formative years as sons in a military family.

9. Smoothe Da Hustler and Trigga Tha Gambler

Damon and Tawan Smith are primarily known for one song, but it’s a Brooklyn classic, an anthem for hustlers doing pull-ups on crosswalk signs in Timbs. Released in 1995, “Broken Language” became a hit and eventually earned Damon (Smoothe) a deal with Profile Records and Tawan (Trigga) one with Def Jam. Over the menacing beat, built on an unabating bassline and ear-popping snares, the pair go back and forth announcing their street titles, like they’re reading off a resume: “The body polluter, the gat shooter/The Brownsville, wild Brooklyn trooper,” Trigga barks. With each verse the brothers raise the intensity level, until finally Smoothe throws any shred of chill remaining out the window, rapping, “Sneak over fuck your babysitter/The chronic-smoking, gun-toting hearse initiator.” Hopefully their mom didn’t make it that far in the song.

8. Chance The Rapper and Taylor Bennett

The Bennett brothers sound a lot alike. Both project a warm rasp from the back of their throats that suits the playful innocence of their songs. They also own a dynamic vocal range, moving with ease from pure and simple rapping to churchly hymning, dreamy romanticizing to puffed-out-chest boasting. They sound so similar that on some of their collabs, like the twinkling, piano-driven “Broad Shoulders,” it’s difficult to differentiate the two. But these similarities come off endearing, especially when they’re rapping about family matters, like brothers whispering over the glow of a flashlight during a backyard campout. “I’ve been too quick with the advice/I just wanna be like dad, right?” Chance shrugs to Taylor on “Shoulders.” Whether listeners like or dislike their work together is mostly irrelevant; their songs are the sound of two siblings checking in on each other.

7. E-40, D-Shot, and Suga-T

The Click, the Vallejo, Calif., group consisting of E-40, his brother D-Shot, sister Suga-T, and cousin B-Legit, released two group albums in the ’90s that personified the Bay Area sound, erected on thick slabs of boogie funk, Roger Troutman–esque talk box, and slick musings of life as hustlers. 40 was and continues to be a rap unicorn, as his off-kilter flow and elaborate slang are shared by no one else on this planet. His brother, meanwhile, was a prototypical smooth Northern Cali MC (à la San Francisco legend Rappin’ 4-Tay), while his sister Suga had a commanding delivery that was pure fire and brimstone. The Stevens’ lasting achievement is the jesting “Hurricane,” a guitar-twanging ode to the rum and grenadine drink of the same name. Its sloshed chorus—“Hurricane, but you can call me slurricane”—and impish background melody make it the ideal soundtrack for when you get so intoxicated that your forehead starts sweating.

6. Zev Love X (MF DOOM) and Subroc of KMD

The story—and underlying tragedy—of KMD has been told 10 times over now. Black Bastards was shelved by Elektra ostensibly ’cause of its controversial artwork, but also probably cause of its title and simply how angry it sounded. Daniel and Dingilizwe Dumile left behind any element of playfulness found on their debut and swapped it with anecdotes of police murdering black men and recordings of Malcolm X’s iconic “Fire and Fury” speech.

Infamously, Dingilizwe was struck and killed by a car during its recording process, forcing Daniel to finish it on his own (and later into hiding before returning adorned in metal as MF DOOM). What’s lost in the album’s wretched lore (and the glory that spawned from it) is how nicely the Dumile brothers worked off each other, as Subroc’s teetering low ends stretched space for Zev’s gravely cry to roam on. It’s a long way off from the blunted jazz that would go on to define DOOM, but it still stands as a compelling document of two brothers rallying against the system and ultimately not escaping unscathed.

5. Master P, Silkk the Shocker, and C-Murder (TRU)

Solange was wise to devote the interludes of her latest album A Seat at the Table to Master P and his story; there was a time when he, his brothers, and their label, No Limit Records, ran the world. Not only did they sell box trucks full of records, but they did it in conquering fashion, atop gold-plated tanks and against a Pen and Pixel–designed backdrop of fire. In retrospect, none of them were particularly great at rapping, but what they lacked in technical skill they made up for in ferocious bravado, each song a rallying cry for their No Limit soldiers and their native New Orleans. The posse cut “Make ’Em Say Ugh” was the label’s statement song, but it’s the horn growls of the now-incarcerated C-Murder’s “Down for My Niggaz” that live on infamy, thanks in part to Kanye and Hudson Mohawke’s reinterpretation of it on Yeezus standout “Blood on the Leaves.”

4. Dr. Dre and Warren G

Though the step-brothers share a surprising lack of song credits (officially, anyway; Warren was present during The Chronic recording sessions), their relationship altered the course of hip-hop forever when Warren introduced Dre to his lanky, velvet-tongued rhyming buddy, Calvin Broadus Jr. (better known as Snoop Dogg). Dre and Snoop would go on to make some of the most formative rap records in history, while Warren went over to Def Jam and managed to craft a classic of his own, the Nate Dogg–featuring “Regulate,” which injected the gangster-rap era with the mojo of daffy crooner Michael McDonald. The pairing was fitting: Though slick in his own right, Warren always seemed to have the aura of the nerdy little brother. Maybe that’s why on the Dre-produced “Ain’t No Fun,” the filthy gangbang anthem off Doggystyle, Warren came so aggressive: “So get on your knees and then start juggling these motherfucking nuts in your mouth,” he deadpanned in his silky hush. Sure, Nate, Kurupt, and Snoop had equally extra verses, but Warren’s was the least expected, making his shockingness the song’s most valuable.

3. Rae Sremmurd

Hip-hop fans were initially skeptical of Slim Jxmmi and Swae Lee, wondering out loud if they were being force fed Atlanta producer Mike WiLL Made-It’’ trap revamp of Kriss Kross. But something started to change with “Look Alive,” the mercurial single off their second album, SremmLife 2. Though their debut contained a number of contagious dance-floor hits, “Alive” saw the brothers take a breath and slow down, morphing from the kids jumping up and down in the trap bounce house to legit pop artists. This evolution continued on their latest project, the triple LP, SR3MM, which somehow contained hardly any filler across its 27 tracks and found the brothers squarely in the melodic pocket. Slim and Swae crafted slinky roller rink anthems and rock-star ballads that stretched their vocal cords in new ways, almost leaving behind straightforward rapping altogether for starry-eyed sonneting.

2. Project Pat and Juicy J

Memphis’ Three 6 Mafia, which Project Pat has more or less been an unofficial member of since its inception, is arguably one of the most influential rap groups of all time. Need proof? Just listen to any major hip-hop release this year—Scorpion (which featured production from group member DJ Paul), Astroworld, Testing—and you’ll hear traces of the group’s gothic club anthems. Paul and Juicy J’s blend of chopped soul samples and dark synth chords tiptoed the line between southern buck music and horrorcore, two sub genres that should be like oil and water, but which they made taste like peanut butter and jelly. In addition to producing all the Three 6 releases, they also handled the beats on Pat’s early solo records, including the thudding hood anthem “Chicken Head” off 2001’s Mista Don’t Play: Everythangs Workin’.

But brothers Juicy and Pat’s greatest moment together came on Three 6’s most seminal single, the bubbling, Marvin Gaye–sampling “Sippin’ on Some Syrup.” Both Pat and Juicy share the same delivery, a plodding rumble of words that seem meticulously punched in. On “Sippin’,” they use it to weave a narrative of hardcore drug use, with Pat handling the iconic chorus and Juicy exclaiming, “People always asking me, is the Three 6 high on that? Rolling on them X pills, stuttering, pup-pup powder packs.” Sound, style, lyrics, even the glorification of heavy drug use—Pat, Juicy, and the gang were making 2018 rap in 2000.

1. Clipse

The Brothers Thornton made a career out of rapping about the family business. Before the duo reenergized the mixtape circuit or had everyone clapping to a street-hardened version of patty cake, they were moving weight in Virginia Beach. They took that experience and, like any good dealer, stretched it out to maximize the product, devoting nearly every bar to the drug trade. Not since Raekwon had anyone done it so romantically, as both Gene (Malice) and Terrence (Pusha-T) had a brilliant ability to say the same damn thing in a thousand different ways without ever sounding redundant. This, combined with their production partnership with the Neptunes and the fact that they shared the same nasally vocal tone, wrapped them in a neat package for hip-hop fans.

It was their album consistency that put them in the upper echelon of MCs, though, as both their debut Lord Willin’ and the near-perfect Hell Hath No Fury are crucial entrees in the cannon of 2000s-era rap. Current G.O.O.D. Music prez Pusha-T is often viewed as the more talented of the two, but Malice (now No Malice) was more subtle and dry in his boasts, a perfect counterbalance to Push’s home-run swing punchlines. “Malice, he think he hard, tough guy of the clique. And Pusha, he walk around like he swear he the shit/You right on both counts, bitch,” Malice rapped on “Virginia,” clarifying to the world why exactly the two brothers are the ideal rap combo.